The Valar's Choice
by Feagalad
Summary: Joshua White and Annette Carter were sworn friends through thick and thin, but are they truly ready for the trials Middle-Earth will present?
1. Lost

**Author's Note: **I am no expert in Elvish...there was a time when I could write/read the runes...but sadly that time is long gone since I have been forced to make room on my mental hard drive for my French courses. I use an online translator...but we all know just how accurate those can be. *rolls eyes* Please bear with me.

Also - just a quick reminder - reviews are food to my muse. If I know people actually like what I'm writing, then I shall be more driven to post more, more often (if that made sense...)

* * *

Ann blinked once or twice – just to be certain that her eyes did not deceive her. A tall form stood there, clad all in gray. His long, golden hair was uncovered and his eyes searched hers keenly, flickering between the still, white face of Josh and Ann's muddy, tearstained one. He seemed to look right through them – analysing and tearing down all barriers to gather information before he finally spoke, slowly, as though he were unaccustomed to speaking in this language.

Sadly, Ann could still understand nothing of the apparent gibberish that spilled from his mouth. His tone did not sound menacing and she could read no antagonism from his facial expression – but she could tell nothing about his language, save that it seemed to fairly roll off his tongue.

She shook her head, motioning at her ears and pulling as clear of a confused face as she could. The man – at least she thought he was a man – thankfully seemed to comprehend her message and switched to another tongue that made the first one sound guttural by comparison. Ann was sorry that she could not understand what was being said and shook her head again.

The man stopped speaking and took a step towards her, pointing to Josh and motioning to his own arm. "What?" The man made the motion again and Ann struggled to properly focus long enough to decode it. "Josh?" She pointed to her friend and the man nodded.

Well – there was nothing for it; they needed help and this stranger might just be the key.

"Yes – he was shot in the arm…two days ago? Now he has a fever and –" She stopped, realizing that if she could not understand him, then the stranger probably could not understand her either. After a moment of deliberation, Ann tore Josh's shirtsleeve further open and motioned to the ugly wound before miming shooting an arrow and displaying the path it must have took through flesh and sinew. She then mopped Josh' brow yet again as he let out a low, fevered moan and shifted position – jostling his arm and starting the vicious cycle all over again. After struggling to make him comfortable, Ann turned to the man and pleaded. "Please – he's going to die. You have to help us!"

She thought she would faint with relief when the man smiled, solemn though it was, and came closer. He knelt down beside her and let his eyes flicker over Josh's slightly shaking body, assessing his condition even as the boy shifted restlessly again. The man laid a gentle hand on Josh' sweaty forehead and murmured a few words. Josh's face screwed up for a moment before it went lax and he slipped into merciful unconsciousness – breathing peacefully, if not deeply. Then the stranger gently gathered Josh's limp form into his arms, rose smoothly to his feet and said something that Ann took to mean: _**"Follow me."**_

She obediently trotted after him, wondering silently what had brought her to this point of low that she was actually trusting a complete stranger like this. The trees began to grow larger and more ancient – the bark taking on a silvery sheen that she felt she really _could _recognize and place, if only she wasn't so tired. "Please, slow down!" She panted out, struggling to keep up with the long strides of her guide. He made no answer, but did slow his pace to match hers. They rounded a bend and found their way barred by a high, green, turf wall. Ann was led a little ways to the right and through a gate, past the guards who stood aside to let them through after a word of apparent explanation from her guide who passed Josh to another man who bore him off towards a house.

"Hey – what're you doing?" Ann protested, making to follow. She was barred by the butt of a spear and turned to confront her guide. "Where are they taking my friend?"

Apparently this was lost in translation for the man laid a hand on his chest and said. "Galadbar."

"It's about time you introduce yourself." The beginnings of a massive headache were pounding in her skull and she could feel that if her knees weren't locked she would fall to the ground. "But where has Josh been taken?"

Galadbar make a few more motions that pretty much translated to: _**"Follow me and don't protest."**_

Having no choice, and really too exhausted to argue further (nothing terrible had happened to either Josh or herself yet, after all), Ann followed. Galadbar led the way towards the center of the city, past small dwellings and immense trees. _"Mallorns"_ Something in Ann's brain made the connection at last, though it meant little to her at this point. She followed Galadbar to the edge of a small rise and between two small, wispy trees to the foot of the largest mallorn yet. Here, they would have to climb a rope ladder. Ann shivered: she had never liked heights and was feeling more tired than she had ever felt before. But at the urging of her guide, she made her way up – not daring to think overmuch about it, or to look down. Once at the top, she dizzily followed Galadbar into a large hall and into what she took to be a throne room where a man and a stunningly beautiful woman sat hand in hand. The man spoke first:

"Galadbar, man i 'wend hen a chin?" Ann lost track of the conversation there, instead focusing on the woman who said nothing, but looked at Ann with her piercing gaze.

Galadbar bowed low beside her. "Celeborn." Was the word he said that cut through Ann's memory like a lance. Oh heaven help her! It would seem that she really was in Middle-Earth (in Lothlorien, to be precise). But, but then that would make Galadbar and the others she spoke to elves – not men at all. Ann was suddenly glad for the language barrier – hoping she hadn't done anything to offend. She was alone in this strange new world – further from home than she had ever thought they were. So those _were _orcs who had attacked! The thoughts swirled around and around in her already woozy mind, making her nauseous. Surely this was all a bad dream – surely she would wake up in a moment!

Celeborn turned to Ann and spoke, though she still could not recognize more than a few words – and her mind was in no condition to comprehend English, let alone her _very_ limited knowledge of assorted Quenya and Sindarin. The questions were like arrows. They flew at her faster than she could answer and she began to cry, feeling overwhelmed.

"I-I don't know. P-please help us." She begged, hoping that her tone would get across her message to them. Her head was pounding and her legs felt too weak to support her. The last thing she saw before the blackness took her was a faint flicker of pity on the face of Lord Celeborn of Lorien.


	2. Ambushed

The next morning, after forcing themselves to eat some more of the bitter leaves, Josh and Ann started off. The scenery was heavenly – all emerald green foliage and a few scattered flowers, but they were too hungry to properly enjoy it. Josh was actually beginning to wonder if he could manage to lead them to a house before they starved to death. He had never been so hungry in his life! It was like the empty pit in his middle was consuming all of his thoughts, despite numerous attempts to fix his mind on other things.

Ann was faring little better. Her legs were aching and she fancied that she might be developing a blister on her right big toe. She was not better suited to all of this walking than Josh was (even less, actually, for at least Josh played pickup soccer) She thought back to how they got into this whole mess.

* * *

_OUCH! Ann landed on top of someone, their pointy elbow digging painfully into her ribs. There was a groan from that someone and then, "Will you please get off?"_

_"Oh, Josh!" Ann scrambled to her feet, clumsy in her haste, and backed away awkwardly. "Sorry."_

_Josh was too busy wiping his tongue on his shirt to answer. (Apparently some of her hair had gotten into his mouth) This delay gave Ann a chance to look around at the trees and try to regain her composure. Wait…_trees_?_

_Where was the blackberry thicket? Where was Josh's favorite climbing spot? Where were the voices of those searching for them? Why couldn't she see the roof of Josh's house? Oh dear heaven – what had that flash done?_

_"Josh." Ann quavered. "Don't look now…but I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."_

_"Okay, _Dorothy, _and…Holy Cow!" Josh abandoned the cleaning of his shirt and stared around wildly, his voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch when he shouted, "What did you do, Ann?"_

_That just rankled her. "What did I_ _do?" She demanded. "What did _I _do? I think you mean: what did _you _do? We were at your house!" _

_"I think I would know if I did something like this," Josh snapped, raking his fingers through his hair in agitation and pacing back and forth. _

_"Well it wasn't me, either," Ann snapped right back. "Where are we, anyways?"_

_That made Josh pause in his pacing and stare back and forth wildly. Ann was busily observing too, grateful to have something to focus her mind on. Trees? Check. Blackberry thicket? Mysteriously gone. Blinding flash of light? Check. Explanation? Magic. Likelihood? Not much…but what other explanation would there be?_

_"I think," Ann said slowly, trying not to give into her panic and start hyperventilating. It helped that she had been mentally preparing for such a time as this for years (not knowingly, of course, but via imagination) "I think that we've somehow broken through the time and space barrier and been transported through the wormhole."_

_"WHAT?"_

_"We've gone back in time." She explained to her clueless friend (clearly Josh hadn't ever read any sci-fi novels or he'd understand. Didn't he pay any attention to those boring video games of his?)_

_Josh did a double take. "Come again?" He said. "We've gone back in time? Is that even possible?" His voice was climbing higher and higher as he spoke – a clear sign of panic._

_Ann herself was fighting to keep a clear head. "It must be – we've just done it." She steadfastedly ignored the little voice that whispered 'are you sure that's what happened' and stared at Josh who had resumed his pacing and was now gesturing wildly and muttering bits of nonsense. She hoped this information hadn't broken him. _

_"Just great, just greeeaaat. Just what I always wanted for my birthday – a stinking trip through time. Oh, of course, how _did_ you know? I can't wait to get munched up by a T-Rex or flattened by a Velociraptor..."_

_Ann didn't have the heart to tell him that Velociraptors, while often large, probably wouldn't completely flatten him._

_"..and the cake was chocolate and filled with vanilla ice-cream and..."_

_"JOSH!" Ann had had enough and took her friend by the shoulders, giving him a good shake. "Calm down."_

_"CALM DOWN!" Josh screamed. "How can I calm down? We're in the past or something like that – how are we going to get home?"_

* * *

Yes, Ann still didn't have an answer to that question and it weighed heavily on her mind – particularly as she got tireder and hungrier with every step forward.

After a couple of hours of plodding on thus, they found the most wonderful thing: an apple tree with a few fruits still clinging to it. They each did the practical thing and ate several apples right then and there (Ann also filled her bag with the leftover fruit…just in preparation for later).

They continued on for the rest of the day, chowing down on apples whenever the hunger threatened to make reappearance. That evening, they were crossing a wide clearing when an arrow zipped in and planted itself in the ground by Josh's foot. Yet another came and stuck into Ann's bag. Josh didn't stop to look where they were coming from; he just grabbed her arm and broke into a stumbling run. Ann began to regret eating that last apple – core and all – when a harsh stitch began to throb in her side. By the ragged breathing of Josh beside her, she guessed that he was experiencing the same problem.

The sound of harsh laughter from behind spurred them on to a greater pace. Ann looked back and saw several figures emerging from the trees. They looked somehow familiar.

"Orcs!" she cried.

At that instant, Josh stumbled and gasped in pain: an arrow had gone clean through his arm. He ran on and steered them towards a clump of trees. The orcs had seemingly given up the chase; Josh and Ann crossed a small stream and ran about a hundred feet before they collapsed. Blood poured from the wound on Josh's bicep and he vomited into the grass, weakly placing a hand over the gaping cut. It was pain beyond anything he had ever felt before – even when he was six and had to have a fractured ankle set. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he swallowed back another mouthful of bile.

The arrow had passed through and had not struck bone or stuck in flesh. Ann stared in horror, not sure what to say or do in the face of her friend in such pain. She couldn't even remember how to stop the bleeding. At last, Josh sat up, teeth chattering as he trembled. "I need a drink." He mumbled, face white as a sheet. He half stumbled, half crawled to the stream and feebly scooped water into his mouth, wiping the sheen of sweat from his face and taking deep breaths.

Ann was still gasping for breath and trembling. "I think we lost them," She panted, glancing back over her shoulder to look for pursuers. Josh just laid back weakly, positioning his injured arm carefully over his chest, and closed his eyes.

When they had recovered from the shock and Josh had quit shaking so much, Ann felt her mind clear and remember the things she had learned through books. She straightened her shoulders and went over to her friend.

"Let me have a look at that arm, Josh."

The boy obligingly struggled into a sitting position and allowed her to examine him.

"What _were_ they?" inquired Josh, wincing as she poured water over his arm to clean the wound. He clenched his teeth as a shudder jolted him.

Ann shrugged, struggling to tear a strip from the bottom of her t-shirt. "They-they looked like the orcs in _Lord of the Rings_, but I'm not sure. I mean, its not like Middle-earth is real, is it?"

"I wonder…it fits, though. Look at those mountains over there: they might be the Misty Mountains."

"You don't mean that…?" Ann's mouth dropped open. She had been so certain that they had gone back in time and had resigned herself to that improbable knowledge. How much further a stretch was it to believe that they had actually entered another (and entirely fictional) world!

"Yes I do." Josh looked her straight in the eyes. "That flash of light that seemed to bring us here, it could have done anything!"

"Well," said Ann slowly. "If this is Middle-earth, what age? Where are we?"

"I don't know. I want to find out, thought…" Josh's voice trailed off as he stared at the setting sun.

"I know one thing." Ann said firmly. "You need a doctor for that arm."

"I'll be all right. You did a fine job of bandaging it. Where did you learn that?"

"Oh, I picked it up from a book somewhere. I couldn't really get it clean, and my shirt is kinda grubby. I hope it doesn't get infected."

"Yeah, me too." Josh said.

The two of them journeyed on for several days. On the third day after the attack, Josh awoke with a fever. He shivered constantly, his teeth chattering so that he couldn't eat the apple Ann cut up. His eyes were cloudy and sunken. His face was white with an unnatural flush at the cheekbones. He staggered to his feet and stumbled along. That evening, he didn't even bother to eat; he just sank down and fell asleep. The next morning, he could not even rise: his fever had grown dangerously high, leaving him unconscious. The wound on his bicep was ugly and clearly infected; greenish-yellow pus seeped from under the edges of skin and dark red streaks spread out from the cut like sunrays. The skin was hot and even the lightest of touches made Josh flinch. He was delirious, sometimes thrashing and muttering, other times lying as still as the dead. Ann didn't know what to do, save to try and cool his face with a damp cloth. As evening drew on, she bent over him, weeping.

"He's going to die." She murmured, not fully realising what was going on through her own exhaustion and ill health. Lack of proper food and rest were getting to her. Too quick of movements had black spots dancing before her eyes and the twisting ache in her stomach was gone, but she doubted that was a good sign. To conserve energy, she sat next to her friend and cooled his brow, trying desperately to recall anything she had read that could help her in this situation. As she looked into Josh's still, pale face, she felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around.


	3. Taken

**Author's Note: **I am no expert in Elvish...there was a time when I could write/read the runes...but sadly that time is long gone since I have been forced to make room on my mental hard drive for my French courses. I use an online translator...but we all know just how accurate those can be. *rolls eyes* Please bear with me.

Also - just a quick reminder - reviews are food to my muse. If I know people actually like what I'm writing, then I shall be more driven to post more, more often (if that made sense...)

* * *

Ann blinked once or twice – just to be certain that her eyes did not deceive her. A tall form stood there, clad all in gray. His long, golden hair was uncovered and his eyes searched hers keenly, flickering between the still, white face of Josh and Ann's muddy, tearstained one. He seemed to look right through them – analysing and tearing down all barriers to gather information before he finally spoke, slowly, as though he were unaccustomed to speaking in this language.

Sadly, Ann could still understand nothing of the apparent gibberish that spilled from his mouth. His tone did not sound menacing and she could read no antagonism from his facial expression – but she could tell nothing about his language, save that it seemed to fairly roll off his tongue.

She shook her head, motioning at her ears and pulling as clear of a confused face as she could. The man – at least she thought he was a man – thankfully seemed to comprehend her message and switched to another tongue that made the first one sound guttural by comparison. Ann was sorry that she could not understand what was being said and shook her head again.

The man stopped speaking and took a step towards her, pointing to Josh and motioning to his own arm. "What?" The man made the motion again and Ann struggled to properly focus long enough to decode it. "Josh?" She pointed to her friend and the man nodded.

Well – there was nothing for it; they needed help and this stranger might just be the key.

"Yes – he was shot in the arm…two days ago? Now he has a fever and –" She stopped, realizing that if she could not understand him, then the stranger probably could not understand her either. After a moment of deliberation, Ann tore Josh's shirtsleeve further open and motioned to the ugly wound before miming shooting an arrow and displaying the path it must have took through flesh and sinew. She then mopped Josh' brow yet again as he let out a low, fevered moan and shifted position – jostling his arm and starting the vicious cycle all over again. After struggling to make him comfortable, Ann turned to the man and pleaded. "Please – he's going to die. You have to help us!"

She thought she would faint with relief when the man smiled, solemn though it was, and came closer. He knelt down beside her and let his eyes flicker over Josh's slightly shaking body, assessing his condition even as the boy shifted restlessly again. The man laid a gentle hand on Josh' sweaty forehead and murmured a few words. Josh's face screwed up for a moment before it went lax and he slipped into merciful unconsciousness – breathing peacefully, if not deeply. Then the stranger gently gathered Josh's limp form into his arms, rose smoothly to his feet and said something that Ann took to mean: _**"Follow me."**_

She obediently trotted after him, wondering silently what had brought her to this point of low that she was actually trusting a complete stranger like this. The trees began to grow larger and more ancient – the bark taking on a silvery sheen that she felt she really _could _recognize and place, if only she wasn't so tired. "Please, slow down!" She panted out, struggling to keep up with the long strides of her guide. He made no answer, but did slow his pace to match hers. They rounded a bend and found their way barred by a high, green, turf wall. Ann was led a little ways to the right and through a gate, past the guards who stood aside to let them through after a word of apparent explanation from her guide who passed Josh to another man who bore him off towards a house.

"Hey – what're you doing?" Ann protested, making to follow. She was barred by the butt of a spear and turned to confront her guide. "Where are they taking my friend?"

Apparently this was lost in translation for the man laid a hand on his chest and said. "Galadbar."

"It's about time you introduce yourself." The beginnings of a massive headache were pounding in her skull and she could feel that if her knees weren't locked she would fall to the ground. "But where has Josh been taken?"

Galadbar make a few more motions that pretty much translated to: _**"Follow me and don't protest."**_

Having no choice, and really too exhausted to argue further (nothing terrible had happened to either Josh or herself yet, after all), Ann followed. Galadbar led the way towards the center of the city, past small dwellings and immense trees. _"Mallorns"_ Something in Ann's brain made the connection at last, though it meant little to her at this point. She followed Galadbar to the edge of a small rise and between two small, wispy trees to the foot of the largest mallorn yet. Here, they would have to climb a rope ladder. Ann shivered: she had never liked heights and was feeling more tired than she had ever felt before. But at the urging of her guide, she made her way up – not daring to think overmuch about it, or to look down. Once at the top, she dizzily followed Galadbar into a large hall and into what she took to be a throne room where a man and a stunningly beautiful woman sat hand in hand. The man spoke first:

"Galadbar, man i 'wend hen a chin?" Ann lost track of the conversation there, instead focusing on the woman who said nothing, but looked at Ann with her piercing gaze.

Galadbar bowed low beside her. "Celeborn." Was the word he said that cut through Ann's memory like a lance. Oh heaven help her! It would seem that she really was in Middle-Earth (in Lothlorien, to be precise). But, but then that would make Galadbar and the others she spoke to elves – not men at all. Ann was suddenly glad for the language barrier – hoping she hadn't done anything to offend. She was alone in this strange new world – further from home than she had ever thought they were. So those _were _orcs who had attacked! The thoughts swirled around and around in her already woozy mind, making her nauseous. Surely this was all a bad dream – surely she would wake up in a moment!

Celeborn turned to Ann and spoke, though she still could not recognize more than a few words – and her mind was in no condition to comprehend English, let alone her _very_ limited knowledge of assorted Quenya and Sindarin. The questions were like arrows. They flew at her faster than she could answer and she began to cry, feeling overwhelmed.

"I-I don't know. P-please help us." She begged, hoping that her tone would get across her message to them. Her head was pounding and her legs felt too weak to support her. The last thing she saw before the blackness took her was a faint flicker of pity on the face of Lord Celeborn of Lorien.


	4. Healing

When Ann awoke, she was lying in a big, soft bed. Golden light streamed in through a latticed window. As she sat up, she realized that she was wearing a clean nightgown. She blushed, knowing that someone had to have undressed her, washed her, and then put this nightgown on her all while she was unconscious. It was not a particularly pleasing realisation

A knock at the door made Ann straighten up in bed as best as she was able. "Come in," she called.

A female elf (an elleth, to give her the proper title) came in, bearing a covered tray.

_"_Mae g'ovannen, av-'osto. Gi nathlam hi. Pedig edhellen?" She said, setting the tray down.

Ann knew just enough elvish to understand that she had just said 'hello' – or some equivalent of that greeting – but Ann sadly could not understand another word and shook her head in confusion. The elleth nodded and laid a hand on her chest. "Im Arnor." She pointed at Ann and cocked her head inquisitively.

"Er, hello," Ann said, feeling rather silly as she laid a hand on her own chest. "I'm Ann." She realized that she must show that she understood Arnor's introduction, so she pointed at Arnor and repeated the elleth's name. Arnor smiled and set about uncovering the tray – which Ann deduced from the delicious aromas that arose to her olfactories held a bowl of steaming soup.

Ann's sense of smell was proven right when she was given the bowl, which did indeed contain a rich, fragrant broth that she dug into hungrily. Swift as lightening, Arnor grabbed Ann's wrist and shook her head sternly – miming a slow movement of spoon to mouth. Ann sighed, but cooperated, slowing her eating pace and trying to savor each mouthful before she swallowed. It wasn't easy – she was _so_ hungry – but she did her best, not wanting to throw it back up. It was like heaven to have something to eat again. The food was the most filling and the drink most refreshing she had ever had.

While Ann was eating, Arnor sat by the bed and watched – and action that would have made Ann feel awkward, had she not been so extremely hungry. From time to time, the elleth murmured a few phrases in Elvish. Ann drank in the sound of the language as hungrily as she supped her soup. She only know a few words and phrases of assorted Sindarin and Quenya and her grammar was very dubious, but she loved the beauty of the elven tongue. She felt that should like to learn, though. Her friend, Josh knew…

She stopped and gasped. Arnor leaned forward, full of concern for her patient. "Prestad?"

Ann took no notice – too busy berating herself for forgetting Josh's plight. He had been so sick last she saw him! How could she have neglected even the thought of him? "Where is my friend?" She asked, and then mentally slapped herself when Arnor frowned in confusion. Curse this language barrier! Of all the places to land they had to end up in Lothlorien where most of the inhabitants did not even speak Westron, let alone English!

"Mellon?" She said hesitantly, motioning to her upper arm and pretending to slash it open. After a moment of consideration, Arnor seemed to comprehend (although Ann wasn't sure if this was because of her stab-in-the-dark attempt at Elvish, or her little game of charades).

Arnor smiled and mimicked wiping her forehead and dabbed at her own upper arm – a motion that Ann took to mean that they were tending to Josh. Well, that was a comfort. From what Ann knew of Elvish medicine – Josh's prospects were looking brighter. "Is he awake?" She motioned to her arm again to establish that she was talking about Josh, then closed and reopened her eyes and forced a yawn for emphasis. "Can I see him?"

"Earendil, u!" Arnor shook her head and looked pointedly at Ann's soup. Hoping that that gesture had meant that she could see Josh when she was well again which – if Ann had anything to do with it – would be very soon. She wasn't all _that _ill!

As soon as Ann was finished with her meal, Arnor laid a gentle, cool hand on her forehead to check her temperature and took her pulse. Apparently finding everything to satisfaction, Arnor smiled, took the tray, and left the room leaving Ann alone with her thoughts.

Ann leaned back against the soft pillows and looked around. The room was not large, but had an airy, spacious feel to it. The walls were made of light, carved wood, as was the floor. Somewhere nearby a wind chime tinkled in a soft, fragrant breeze. Having nothing better to do, Ann closed her eyes and thought back over the past few days.

"So either I'm insane, hallucinating, or dead. I was playing hide-and-go-seek at my best friend's party when we were whisked off to Middle-earth of all places. Why oh why do these types of things always happen to me?" She muttered, and then groaned. "Oh, nice one, Annette. Talking to oneself is always the first sign of insanity."

Ann contemplated the merits of sneaking out to find Josh, but the lingering weariness and soreness in her limbs quickly vetoed that idea. "I'm bored. No, stop it, stop it!" She mentally scolded herself. "Quit talking to yourself. You might just start getting answers you don't want to hear."

Suddenly, she noted that she was grinding her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut in a way sure to give anyone a headache. The green eyes snapped open and looked around the room, searching for something to do.

She fixed her gaze on the bookshelf standing against the opposite wall. "Not too far. I could even hold onto the bed the entire way." Ann mused. She scooted up into a better position, pushing back the eiderdown coverlet and swinging her bare feet over the edge of the bed. Sliding from the bed carefully, she clutched at the bedside table and managed to shuffle, slowly, painfully, shakily, over to the bookshelf and retrieve something to read. On trembling legs the curly-haired girl made it back to her bed and, with rather more than the usual difficulty, clambered in with her tome. The effort proved to be more draining than Ann had anticipated, for she hadn't even attempted to read the first page when the book fell from limp hands. Annette Carter was sound asleep.

* * *

**Elvish Translations:**

_Mae g'ovannen, av-'osto. Gi nathlam hi. Pedig edhellen?_ - Well met, don't be afraid. You are welcome here. Do you speak Elvish?

_Im Arnor_ - I am Arnor

_Prestad?_ - Is there trouble?

_Earendil, u!_ - Earendil, no!


	5. Discussions

A few days later, Ann was walking on the balcony outside her room. Lothlorien was even more beautiful than she had imagined! The light filtering down through the leaves was golden and warm, shining on the silver bark of the mallorns and the roofs of the flets built into them. She had not yet been outside proper, but she could hear the tinkling of a fountain not far away and ever present was the soothing breeze fluttering the yellow mallorn leaves.

She rubbed her wrist as she stood there, wincing as she hit the knob of bone and wondering absently how much weight she had lost. She smiled ruefully. Many of the girls back home would envy her: losing weight without even trying. Her first glimpse of herself in a mirror had shaken her up. She had never been fat before, but she had always been on the sturdy side of slim. Now, all that was gone and her face looked rather gaunt. It was not a good look – no wonder Arnor had been so cautious with her health!

Speak of the elleth…Arnor came up behind just then and tapped Ann on the shoulder, motioning to Galadbar who stood beside her. Ann was very glad that she had a dressing gown on over her nightshift. Galadbar spoke, most likely remarking on her recovery, before launching into a short speech that Ann struggled to follow. She caught the words 'Celeborn' 'Galadriel' and what she thought was 'your story' and concluded that he was telling her that she wasn't off the hook yet – she had yet to explain herself.

Ann nodded to show that she understood. After Galadbar had departed, Arnor had brought a dress of hunter's green and indicated that Ann should put it on. Ann did so – relishing the soft feel of the fabric against her skin. Then Arnor led her towards the door. Ann wondered what had happened to her other clothes – missing her jeans as she discovered that to walk without tripping she had to hold up her skirt "What's going on?" Ann asked, wiggling her bare toes on the cool, smooth marble. Arnor turned and made a few gestures that Ann could make little sense of.

Curse this language barrier! It was so awkward to have to communicate via charades like this. Ann motioned to the door and cocked her head with her best quizzical look. It would insulting to the intelligence of Arnor to suppose that the elleth hadn't understood before…but Ann had to make it clear that she herself hadn't understood Arnor's reply.

Arnor changed her gestures – first motioning to her upper arm, then pointing at Ann and back to the door again. "Josh?" Ann ventured and Arnor nodded.

"No. An ngell nin aphado nin." She started for the door again and, carefully keeping track of her hem, Ann followed.

Josh was sitting up in bed when Ann walked through the door of his room. She looked him up and down anxiously. He was still looking rather pale and wan, but the deathly tones were gone from his face. He had been reading (or trying to read) a thick book, but he set it aside as she entered.

"Good morning, Ann." He smiled as the girl raced over and hopped onto the edge of his bed.

"Josh! You're all better! How do you feel?"

"Quite good, considering what all has happened. This elvish medicine seems to work well, though I don't think much of the taste. How are you?"

"Great. I'm getting tired of having to communicate through funny faces and hand-waves, though." Ann said. "It's funny. I used to dream about being in an adventure like this, but now that I am actually here, I'm not so sure I like it. I'd completely forgotten about the language barrier between Middle-earth and modern times."

Josh shrugged and brushed some of his hair back from his eyes "Well, at least we're still alive. Though, the elves seem to be a little suspicious of me. They are kind and all – but, well, it's just a feeling."

"Oh, Josh. They _are_ a bit suspicious." Ann seated herself against the footrail and clasped her hands around her knees. "As soon as you are all better we are to be taken to Celeborn and Galadriel to explain ourselves."

"So? We don't know the language."

"So we had better think up a good, convincing history for ourselves. I'm sure they will think of something – besides, they can interpret our gestures better than we can interpret theirs. Oh, and don't look at Galadriel when you are talking. She'll see right through anything you say."

"Who says we have to lie?" Josh asked.

Clearly he was still rather high on painkillers. "Are you kidding?" Ann demanded incredulously. "Say that we're from another time, another place, and another world? Yeah right! If they don't chuck us into the looney bin then they'll interrogate us more thoroughly to discover the true intent behind our 'lie'. Firstborn of Illutavar or not, they would never believe our real story."

"Illutavar?" Josh stared at her blankly. "I don't follow."

Ann rolled her eyes. "Oh for Pete's sake! Like God – but in Middle-earth, get it?"

"I guess. So – no telling them our real history?"

"Nope – not unless you wish to discover whether elves believing in 'light torture' is a myth or not."

"You're right. Let's get thinking." Josh frowned in thought. "Well, we can't be siblings because we don't look a bit alike."

"Who said that we had to be brother and sister?" Ann said. "But that's not important right now. What I would like to know is how we are going to explain where our parents are and why we were wandering all alone in the wild. Folk are considered of age earlier here than in our world, I believe, but better to be safe than sorry."

"Well, what region do we come from?" Josh asked.

"Not from the South, they're all dark-skinned." Ann said, looking at Josh's paler-than-usual face. "Nor from the East. We _really_ don't want to be mistaken for Mordor spies or slaves."

"Then where? You know Middle-earth geography better than me."

"Maybe from the North. North and a little West. In the Lone Lands where not even the Dunadain remnants have covered every nook and cranny it would be plausible for someone to live. Close to the mountains, so we can say our guardians were killed by goblins or trolls, but not too close to Rivendell."

"So complicated." Josh moaned. "How are we to keep it straight? One contradiction and the whole gig will be up."

Ann shrugged. "Fake being weaker than you are to give us more time to practice and work out the bugs."

Josh shot her a look of manly pride offended. "Why me? Why can't you pretend to be a wimp?"

"Because I've already been out of bed and walking around, not to mention I wasn't the one with the infection." Ann shot back. "Think, Josh, that's why God gave you a brain."

Josh glared. "They'll never believe me."

"They're more likely to believe you than me." Ann said. "You were the one always landing lead drama parts back home."

* * *

**Elvish Translation:**

_No. An ngell nin aphado nin. - _Yes. Please come with me.


	6. Explanations

**Author's Note: **I apologize for my lengthier-than-usual absence...my laptop sort of crashed. Still - let us hope for better things and get on with the show!

* * *

"The tree is gr-een." Ann sounded out carefully, looking at the page of Westron phrases she was supposed to be studying (learning to read the language had been a whole other set of lessons – but she was fluent enough to be able to guess and get by). Beside her, Josh was going through a stack of flashcards and muttering vowel pronunciations under his breath.

It was slow going, this learning a new language, even though this _was _a crash course. The elves, for all the materials they provided, weren't very helpful. They were not chatty and friendly. They provided what the two friends would need and then left them alone. Josh had the feeling that this was not only because the elves were wary of them – he had a hunch that they were just naturally aloof to anyone who wasn't another elf.

Ann was feeling frustrated by learning this new language of Middle-Earth. Much as this was an exciting adventure, she hadn't anticipated just how hard learning Westron would be. It just wasn't fair! Josh seemed to have little trouble pronouncing the words and remembering the grammar. What was it about her brain that made learning so difficult?

"Rain, pain, gain, lain, swain." Josh muttered to himself. "Chain, fain, slain…_train_!" He added the last one with a rueful chuckle. He wondered why that word was even in the Westron vocabulary. Well, maybe it was for the ridiculously long hem of those elvish robes!

Amused by that thought, Josh flipped to another set of flashcards and began again. "Loot, root, moot…"

* * *

"How goes the learning?" Arnor entered Josh's room with a tray of food. Ann was pleasantly surprised to discover that she actually understood what Arnor said this time. Josh was screwing up his face and taking a quick glance at Ann's paper before he slowly replied.

"It goes…good."

Ann would have face-palmed at the bad grammar, were it not for the fact that she was impressed he had attempted to construct a sentence in the first place. That was the hardest part of learning a new language: grammar and syntax. It wasn't so bad when one was listening or reading and mentally translating, and even remembering vocabulary wasn't too hard, but actually forming sentences and ideas of one's one? That was hard.

Arnor smiled. "You are learning fast." She said, speaking slowly as if she herself were not overly familiar with Westron. "Soon you will be ready to speak to the Lady."

Ann gulped and turned her eyes, wondering if there was some way to sabotage their learning in order to put this meeting off a bit more.

* * *

"Tell us your story."

This was it, the big moment, the dangerous time. The day that would decide whether they continued on in Lothlorien as guests, or became prisoners.

Without even a glance at Ann, Josh stepped forward and launched into his story. "We are orphans. Neither of us know who our birth parents are. We were raised by an old woman, a…a hermit type who lived in the wild." Here Josh stopped and drew a deep breath, carefully forming his sentences. It was more of a struggle than he guessed to play this part and he hoped that any faltering could be passed off as his still rudimentary grasp of the language. "One day, we spent the morning wandering in the woods, playing. When we returned, the door to our house was broken down. When we went inside, we found our guardian, dead, and our home wrecked. We buried the old woman under a nearby tree and took such food as could be salvaged. We were afraid to stay there in case the attackers came back. We wandered until our food supply was nearly spent. Five days before we were found by your guard, we were seen and chased by a band of orcs."

Ann felt a great admiration for Josh's acting skills as he finished. He had made the lie sound so believable. She knew she would have to do the same. Cautiously, she raised her eyes to the faces of Celeborn and Galadriel.

"Well, my children," said the Lord of Lorien after a moment of deliberation. "If your tale be true, you have known much sorrow."

"Yet." Added the Lady. "I do not believe that it is your fate to remain here in Lorien. You are both of the Secondborn and the Valar undoubtedly have some other purpose for you. I think that you are bound for someplace beyond our borders."

Ann sagged a bit. That was discouraging!

"Still," went on Celeborn, "in the outside world, winter is hastening on. We will not send you forth now. Also, we will train you both to defend yourselves. Do not think the elves so merciless that we would send two lambs out among the wolves."

_"So what, you'll make us into sheep?" _Josh thought to himself, trying to keep his disappointment from showing on his face.


	7. Learning

"No, Ann." Josh said, peering critically at her hand. "If you hold it like that you'll end up spraining your wrist."

"It's not my fault this stupid thing is so heavy!" Ann glared darkly down at her wrist as she changed positions. "There – is that right?"

Her friend reached over and tweaked her thumb. "Yeah – that looks about right. If it isn't…I'm sure Daekir will let you know."

"I'm sure he will." Ann grumbled. It wasn't that she didn't like their instructor – Daekir _was_ one of the few elves that actually seemed to like the two teens – but as she bumbled her way through the training sessions she could feel herself liking Daekir (and even Josh) less and less with each second. She knew that this sentiment was just her venting her own frustrations on her best friend – yet everything that she struggled with seemed to come easily to him.

For a boy who had spent much of his life in front of the television or with game-controller in hand, Josh took to the swords and bows like a fish to water. True he was rather out-of-shape and still recovering from his illness…but each day he improved and grew stronger – learnt more and retained it better than she did. Maybe he just had better muscle memory than she did.

Josh moved his way through a four-stance set, still trying to get used to the weight of a blade in his hand. This was brilliant! If he had known years ago what fun this sort of thing could be he would have been surfing the Internet for a fencing club with the same type of voracity he played Call of Duty.

* * *

The winter months passed quickly this way: busy day after busy day. Sometime in mid-January (as near as they could tell) Ann was told that she had advanced as far as she should in weaponry and was sent to the healers for training that better suited her place as a member of the fairer sex.

She would have protested the unfairness of this _very _backwards attitude (chivalry is all well and good, after all, but repression is a whole other can of worms), had it not been rather a relief to get out of the obligatory daily duels with Josh. She knew enough to sufficiently defend herself anyways – so that was the important thing.

Ann now spent hours every day with Arnor; learning the many different ways to cure illness and treat wounds. Elves rarely fell ill; so much of what she learnt of disease was by word of mouth. Wounds were much more common, mainly among the guards of the borders, and the elves had little objection to working her – an outsider – hard in the infirmary. Scarcely a day passed when there wasn't _something_ new to learn – or to demonstrate that one had learned.

Arnor had taught her how to identify all manner of healing plants as they grew in the wilds. Many long hikes to different parts of the wood, just so Ann could practice gathering herbs and roots as they restocked the healers' cupboards. Ann knew why the elves were being so helpful and working them so hard (and it wasn't just so they could earn their keep.) The inhabitants of Lorien, particularly the ones that had contact with her and Josh, were only too eager for the teens to depart from the Golden Wood. They were lucky that the mercy of the elves meant that they were even being given this training and not just chucked out on their ears.

Josh spent much of his training, now that Ann was no longer a part of it, learning how to handle a bow and arrow. Unlike Ann, who had done a bit of archery back home and had only had to acclimate herself to the elven bows, Josh had only ever touched his hunting-crazy cousin's bow once – and never fired it. Consequently, he had quite a bit to learn in that department. Thankfully, he had the best archery teacher imaginable: Daekir, elf of Lothlorien.

Throughout this time, both of the teens continued to widen their fluency in Westron. Simply by default (being surrounded by beings who were most comfortable speaking it) they picked up a decent amount of assorted Elvish also.

Time flew and before they realized it, the leaves began falling all throughout the wood. Winter was over: the Mallorns were in blossom.


	8. Travelling

"The time has come for you to leave us."

Josh and Ann stood near the gates of Caras Galadhon, armed and prepared for (almost) anything. The elves had provided them with supplies and gear along with weapons and clothing. They each carried a slender elven bow and a quiver of arrows. Josh had his beloved sword hanging from his belt and Ann had her preferred option of a lightweight dagger. Spring was here – they were now prepared – and, as Celeborn had said, it was time for them to leave the shelter of the Golden Wood for the world outside.

* * *

Two figures stepped out of the forest into a clearing. The girl called to the boy. "How much further do you think we'll be going tonight, Josh?"

"C'mon, Ann. I'm just looking for a good place to camp."

Both of them had changed in the year that had gone by. They were wise and tough. Josh was much taller than the very ill boy who had been carried into Lorien, his gangly frame coming nearer to six feet than to five and just beginning to fill out properly.

Ann had not grown taller, yet she too had changed. She was small and wiry - less of a girl, and more of a young woman. A spattering of freckles speckled her face as a result of all the time she and Josh had spent in the sun.

In their fifteen summers the two friends had seen much, particularly the last year. Through trial and miraculously few errors, they had survived almost a full twelve months in the wild (all right, so they had wintered in Beorndale – but that didn't count) relying on nothing but their wits, their friendship, and the crash-course in Middle-earth survival that they had received in Lothlorien. This crash survival course had come in handy more than a few times as they were forced to protect themselves when they accidentally chose some of the less secure sections of the land to wander in. It was definitely a learning curve that they had not escaped completely unscathed – both had quite a few orc kills under their belt by the time the first summer had faded into autumn and the autumn deepened into winter. No longer were Josh and Ann innocents – surviving trial by fire together, they had grown up.

Now, as the two friends sat by their small campfire, they discussed where to go next.

"Josh," Ann said, pulling out a needle to darn a hole in the knee of her leggings, "according to _The Lord of the Rings _appendices, the war will break out this year."

"I know, I know. I don't want to still be doing this wandering when it starts."

"So, where should we go?"

Josh stirred the fire with a stick. "I am going to make for Minas Tirith. We've read about it, so we know it won't fall. And we know some about the people there, so we will know how to deal with things."

"That's the city that will be hit hardest by the Enemy." Ann said, putting away her needle and thread with a sigh, "Well, I'm game if you are. Minas Tirith it is."

Josh took the first watch and Ann huddled in her cloak, back to the fire and knife near at hand, and fell asleep.


	9. Arriving

"Captain Boromir!" A soldier ran up to his leader and saluted sharply. "I have seen two strange figures, hooded and cloaked, making their way stealthily in the direction of the city."

Boromir arose and, taking five men, followed the scout to stop and capture these things, whatever they should turn out be. He could suffer no foul or evil thing in Minas Tirith and it was his duty, as Captain of the White Tower, to protect fair Minas Tirith with his very life. "Stay close and stay hidden." If we can observe them undetected, we may learn more about them."

This was a good plan – the only downside being that there was little to observe. The two figures, one tall and one short, did not speak and their hoods hid their faces. They did little, in fact, save to continue their walk in the direction of Minas Tirith. At last, Boromir could wait no longer.

"Halt!" As the men of Gondor sprang out of the trees, the two strangers jumped as they were surrounded. Recovering quickly, the taller one drew a sword and his companion set arrow to bowstring.

"What do you want with us?" The taller one (and presumably the leader) asked.

Boromir frowned at the deep, yet youthful voice. "Lower your hood."

With a shrug, the cloaked figure sheathed his sword and threw back the cowl of the cloak. Boromir nodded, as his suspicion was proved right. There stood a boy: tall, wiry, with a head of light-brown hair. No, he could not slay this lad like he would an orc. He would take both boys back to his father. Let Denethor decide what was to be done.

"Bind their hands."

The men moved in, disarmed the lads, and tied their hands behind their backs. The boys offered little, or no resistance. If anything, they aided their captors – a fact that Boromir took note of with interest.

Boromir gathered the rest of his group and they started the trip to Minas Tirith. Much to his discomfort, the two blindfolded prisoners spoke in some strange tongue the entire way there. It was similar in some ways to Westron – the Common Tongue of Middle-earth – but he could make little sense of it. (Privately, he hoped that there would not be a language barrier as that would make things difficult when they came before his father).

* * *

When the group reached, Minas Tirith, the guards led the two boys through the streets, up through all seven levels, and into the Citadel. Boromir took over from there and personally led his captives to Denethor's chair. His father looked them over grimly.

"Well, Boromir, who are these?"

"My father, I found them wandering in the wilds some three miles north of the city. I brought them here, as commanded."

Denethor nodded in approval and turned to the tall boy. "What is your name?"

"Joshua, my lord." (Here Boromir breathed a sigh of relief that the lad at least spoke Westron.)

"And you?"

The shorter boy replied softly in a voice that had not yet broken.

"Speak up, lad. Remove your hood." The Steward ordered.

The small figure reached up and removed the green hood. Long, dark curls rippled down and Boromir found himself gawking, not at a young boy, but at a small female.

"Well, well: a maiden." Denethor looked her over, suspiciously noting the strange clothing and considering the fact that she had attempted to keep her face hidden. "What is your name, girl?"

"I am called Annette, my Lord Steward." Both of the captives bowed politely. Denethor nodded at the bag hanging from Ann's belt.

"What do you carry in there?"

Boromir took a step forward and held out his hand Annette to hand the bag over. He dumped the contents out upon the floor for his father to inspect. Bandages, herbs, and a small knife tumbled in a heap. Boromir inspected the elvish writing on a pouch and relaxed, smiling. "They are not enemies, father. No one connected with Mordor would use the elven script."

Denethor merely turned and held the captives eyes for a moment before nodding. "Pick up your herbs, girl. Faramir!"

A young man hurried to Denethor's side.

"Take these two youths to Ioreth. They shall be her servants and she can keep watch on them. I will speak more with them both later."

Faramir bowed and led Ann and Josh out of Denethor's hall. Ann frowned as evidence of Denethor's dislike of his second son – sending him to do menial tasks that should have been left for servants was just the tip of the iceberg – revealed itself already. She was a bit surprised that he revealed it in front of two strangers such as they were – but did not spend much time pondering this as Josh was speaking.

"Captain, who is this Ioreth?"

Faramir turned in surprise at the question, also seemingly surprised that Josh knew his rank. "You are a bold young one, lad. I wonder what else we might learn about you – but no matter. Ioreth is whom my father has decreed that you shall leave. She is one of the healers: the eldest of the women."

"But what is she like?"

"She has a vigorous tongue, some might say, but she is very kind. You will get along well with her."

Josh turned to Ann and switched to English. "I certainly hope so." He had not missed the fact that Faramir had answered the question without really telling them much.

Ann frowned, "Where have I heard the name 'Ioreth' before?" She mused.

Before Josh could answer, they ran into Faramir who had stopped and was staring at them, doubtless having picked up on the strangeness of their native tongue. He recovered quickly, however, and led them on - still keeping one suspicious eye on the two.

* * *

"Faramir! It has been a long time since you came to visit me."

"My apologizes, Ioreth. My father has kept me very busy."

"Oh, no matter. You've escaped from him at last. Have you time for some warm wine and bread?"

"I'm afraid not, I am here on business for the Steward."

"Please don't tell me I've done something to displease Lord Denethor. Or has your brother managed to get himself wounded on a patrol?"

Faramir chuckled. "Nay. Father commanded me to bring these to you." He guided Josh and Ann forward.

"Oh my, what have we here: two ragged youth?"

Faramir took a step towards her and spoke in a low voice that Josh had to strain to hear. "Lord Denethor wants you to keep an eye on them. They arrived in the city this morning. The girl is trained as a healer, it would seem; perhaps she can be an assistant to you. This boy can run errands so that you will not have to borrow a page."

"Hmm, we shall see. What are your names?"

Josh cleared his throat and stepped forward, resisting the urge to say '_They_ are right here'. "My name is Joshua, and this is Annette. But we're usually called – ."

"Never mind that – come in. You can hang your cloaks over there." Ioreth indicated a row of wooden pegs on the wall. "It is time for the noonday meal. Sit down and have something to eat. I'll show you were you shall be sleeping later. Faramir, I want to speak with you in private."

After the two adults left the room, Ann snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "Now I remember where I've heard of Ioreth! She is the healer who recited the verse about Athelas from Return of the King. You know: _'When the Black Breath blows and Death's shadow grows, come Athelas! Come Athelas! Life to the dying in the King's hand lying.'_"

"No, I don't think it was her." Josh frowned, thinking hard. "I don't know who did, though."

Ioreth came back and fixed them with her keen gaze. "There will be no shirking in my household. You'll have to earn your keep by helping me in the Houses of Healing and doing whatever else I need done."

"Yes, Ma'am." Josh said. "We understand. On probation, of a sort?"

"Yes." Ioreth was about to go on, but Ann was already nodding in agreement.

"We understand: these are evil times we live in. But after night comes day."

"You are a Seer?" Ioreth asked in curiosity, Ann's turn of phrase taking her by surprise.

Ann smiled, amused by this assumption. "I don't think so."


	10. Probation

"Good morning, Ann, Josh. I trust you slept well. I will need your help today in the Houses – so hurry and freshen up. After you break your fast we must go – the Houses are always busy."

After a hasty breakfast of cold beef and oatcakes, Josh and Ann walked behind Ioreth to the Houses of Healing. She led them down corridors and into a small room. Well – it was actually more of a closet. Shelves lined the walls and bottles lined the shelves – bottles labeled things like '_liniment_' and '_tincture of Wolfsbane_'. There was a table situated in the middle of the room cluttered with a mortar and pestle along with many bowls. Bundles of drying herbs hung in clusters from the ceiling, giving the illusion that one was entering into a forested, aromatic cave.

Ioreth pulled out a chair and sank into it with a contented huff. "Well, show me what you know." She said, making herself comfortable. "That first pile on the table there was just brought in from the garden this morning and it needs sorting."

Ann pushed up her sleeves and went over to the table, carefully examining the pile of leaves and stems. Comfrey and lemon balm and…she thought that was probably just plain grass. Carefully avoiding the comfrey prickles by working with her fingertips, Ann made her way through the herbs until they were sorted into two neat piles (the grass and dead leaves/stems being swept onto the floor for later disposal). "Done."

Ioreth hemmed and hawed as she inspected Ann's work. "Well – you clearly have no small amount of training. Take those baskets along the wall there and sort the contents for drying. There is a list of what goes where on the first basket. I will come back at midday and check your work." She left the room, leaving the two teens alone.

Ann and Josh looked at each other, Josh imploringly. "Ann, help! I never learned this stuff."

Ann giggled. "Don't worry. I think I can manage if you'll take care of hanging them up for me." She glanced at the high ceiling. "I don't think I could reach that even with a ladder."

Towards noon, Ioreth came to inspect their work. "Well done, Ann." She said cordially. "We will return to the house now and take our noon meal. When we return you can show me what you know about dressing wounds – a patrol is due to return from Pelenor later this day.

And that is what precisely happened. The next two days fell into a type of dull, commonplace routine. Wake up, hurriedly eat breakfast and head to the Houses of Healing, spend a few hours sorting herbs and preparing tonics or trotting along after Ioreth, eat lunch, and then spend the afternoon either cleaning and running errands for their overseer or once again working at the Houses. It was predictable (and clear that they were still very much on probation) and after the freedom of traveling, both Ann and Josh felt more than a little stifled by this strict template they were living.


	11. Interrogation

On the third day, Ann and Josh were once again summoned to the Houses of Healing (Josh hoped that this monotony would not become a regular thing) but this time Ann was to follow Ioreth around and, under the older woman's critical eye, showcase her skills. She deftly cleaned wounds; prepared drafts, and applied poultices to every patient she was shown. Grateful more than ever for the strict training of Arnor, Ann was only too aware that her performance could make or break their acceptance and livelihood in the city. Right now, she was the one with the marketable knowledge so she was the one who had to make their way. It was wartime and people were suspicious. They had to win the trust of the people around them if they were to survive within Minas Tirith and they had to do it soon for the war was soon to break out.

Josh felt like a bit of a third wheel, following behind the two healers and being the footman who carried the bags. He knew it was a sure tell of how little he was trusted that he was even doing this duty rather than being sent on various errands. Ioreth was clearly not yet willing to let either youth out of her sight to roam free. It was dull as could be and Josh was reduced to amusing himself by making patterns out of the crinkles in the bed sheets.

Noon came and they took the midday meal right there at the Houses, snatching a few minutes to hurriedly stuff down some bread before their duties would resume again. At the same time, a messenger came to Ioreth from the Citadel. "The Lord Steward commands me to bring your two helpers to him. They must go through the questioning and give account for themselves."

At Ioreth's nod (she was thankfully too busy eating to deliver one of her customary monologues), Ann and Josh washed their hands and hurried after the boy. No sooner did they reach the doors to the Steward's hall than they were forced to stop.

"Well, well. It is our two young waifs." A sour-looking boy blocked their way. He was dressed in the livery of the tower, which clashed horribly with his blotchy face.

"Move, Tarthon." Ordered their guide, sounding rather put out. "The Steward has sent for them. You may be his personal attendant, but you have no leave to stall his requests."

Tarthon didn't back down, he merely sneered at them. "What could Lord Denethor possibly want with these? It is not customary for him to show such personal attention to newcomers. Are they royal children? Do they have gold hidden among these rags? Or perhaps they are emissaries or spies from Mordor, for they are certainly foul enough."

"Tarthon, that is enough." Boromir stepped out of the shadows and fixed the stocky page with a glare. "Go on, let them past. This has naught to do with you."

Tarthon slunk off with a sulky look and Boromir took over from the page, leading Ann and Josh to the Hall's doors. "I offer my apologies for my father's page. Pray do not let this unhappy occurance taint your view of the White City."

"Not at all." Josh replied as the doors were pushed open and they were led to stand in front of Denethor's chair for the second time that week.

"So, my son." The Lord Steward said with a grim smile for Borormir. "You have brought me the travelers. Come here, children of the wild, and speak of your purpose. Why have you come to Minas Tirith?"

Ann lowered her head, deciding to bow to the social expectations of the Gondorian culture and so let Josh, as the 'man', handle the talking. Thankfully, he caught her hint and performed beautifully. "My Lord, we have heard of your city, of your armies. Minas Tirith is the great stronghold of the West that holds back the darkness of the East with much sweat and toil. We came to seek shelter against the coming storm of Mordor."

"Mordor?" Denethor's sharp gaze bored into them as he spoke. "Aye, a storm is indeed coming. But why should you come here to seek shelter? There are many strong cities that stand far away from the threat of the Shadow. Why should you not go to them?" Denethor looked at their faces keenly, searching for lies.

"Well, if you want the truth," said Josh, deciding to go the safe route. "We were just closest to this city and saw no reason to travel twice the distance for the off chance that we might find safety somewhere else. And just because you are far away from danger doesn't mean you are far away from harm." Josh's voice was strong as he said this and his eyes were clear as he looked at the Steward. Denethor seemed to pick up on this (Ann knew from the books that he was a very perceptive man) and put away the laser-eyes for the moment as he asked for their history.

Josh stepped back them and deferred to Ann who told the same story they had prepared for Celeborn and Galadriel (hey – if it fooled the elves than it would surely fool a man). Then she briefly told all that had befallen them after they left Lothlorien, figuring that a bit of openness couldn't hurt their case. She avoided speaking overmuch about the elven-realm, however, as she knew of the common Gondorian opinion about Galadriel.

They spent several hours this way and the teens began to weary of the questions. Denethor went back over the same parts of their story several times, clearly searching for traps and cracks in their façade. Both Ann and Josh were extremely careful as to not contradict anything the other said, though it became difficult as time wore on and they began to feel the strain. At the end of it all (which couldn't have come too soon, in Josh's humble opinion), Denethor summoned the messenger boy again and they returned to Ioreth. The rest of the day was spent in one of the aromatic, but stifling herb rooms again.


	12. Interpreter

Ann and Josh lived with Ioreth and, in time, met her other apprentices. There was Joash, the thirteen year old younger brother of a Citadel guard; Aelin, a young woman from one of the small outlying villages; and Terith, a pretentious teenager that hailed from Gondor itself. They were, for the most part, friendly to the newcomers though it sometimes visibly irked them that Ann, two years younger than Terith and Aelin, was considered a full-grown, competent healer who, once her loyalties were more or less proved, needed little supervision (not for the first time did Ann thank her stars that the elves were rigorous and skillful trainers). It was nice, Ann found, to gain more freedom every time she successfully treated a wound. Ioreth would pretend that she wasn't watching, perhaps waiting for the girl to slip up and betray her loyalties by letting soldiers die, but as Ann had no desire to do anything of the sort she was never caught in a misstep. There were plenty of opportunities to show this too, as Gondor was striving to keep control of Osgiliath, and the ensuing skirmishes brought many wounded men to the Houses of Healing each day.

* * *

One fine day, nearly two weeks since their chat with Denethor, Ann was working in the herb room again when Ioreth came to find her.

"Annette, come with me, quickly. I need your help, Lord Boromir has dislocated his shoulder and I will need someone to help put it back in place before the damage is allowed to deepen."

One of the apprentices, a girl named Terith, opened her mouth as if to protest, but Ann and Ioreth had already rushed from the room.

They found Boromir sitting in a small room. He scarcely even glanced at the two women as they entered. His normally tanned face was white, screwed up against the pain, and he had his teeth clenched tightly. "Annette," said Ioreth, urgently. "I need you to hold him down while I fix up his shoulder. Boromir, I'm sorry but I need you to lie down."

Thought clearly pained him, Boromir managed to maneuver himself into a horizontal position and Ann took hold of his shoulders gently, bracing herself for Ioreth's push. Boromir hissed through his teeth when the shoulder popped back into place, but he miraculously did not scream (Ann was impressed). Ioreth then used a pair of scissors to cut away the remains of his shirt and examined the shoulder critically. She poked and prodded for a while, making the soldier grimace, before going to a shelf and retrieving some fabric. "You will need to wear this arm in a sling for a while. Annette will mix up some arnica for the bruising and you will need to take something for the pain, Boromir."

The man grinned tightly, "Why did you not give me that at the start?"

Ioreth sniffed. "Well, I suppose if you wanted to have to wait ten minutes to have that shoulder fixed just so the potion could do its work, I might have." With that, she swept out of the room, leaving Ann alone with Boromir.

Ann busied herself mixing the herbs, all the while, feeling his eyes on the back of her head. It was an awkward situation. Ann knew a good deal about the character Boromir – but she had little knowledge or history with the man, save for that brief encounter outside of Denethor's hall where he had sent that extraordinarily annoying Tarthon packing. (Ann had nick-named the page Eustace Clarence Scrubb in her own mind…Josh wouldn't say what Tarthon reminded him of.) So rather than speaking with Boromir, Captain of Gondor, Ann focused her energies on preparing the medecins – realising that this must be yet another test Ioreth had set for her. At length, though, Boromir himself surprised her by speaking. "Faramir has told me that you have spent some time with the elvenfolk." At Ann's surprised glance, Boromir continued. "I have heard tales that the elves, through magic, can interpret dreams."

"Why do you ask me that, my lord?" She asked, handing over the willow bark concoction.

Boromir took the drink and downed it quickly, grimacing as he did so. "Faramir has for some time now been speaking of a strange dream that plagues the halls of his sleeping mind. I dismissed it as mere imagination; the mere phantom of some half-formed thought, nurtured by exhaustion into a prowling beast. But last night the same dream visited me in a troubled sleep and I can no longer deny the validity of the vision, though I cannot fathom what it might mean."

Ann thought she knew which dream he was speaking of. "What did you see, my lord?"

* * *

When Ann returned to the main room sometime later, she overheard a heated argument that was raging between Ioreth and Terith.

"I care little about from whence she came, ma'am." That was Terith all over; somehow managing to be annoying through politeness. "It's not proper, taking her to help with the men whilst she is dressed like that. It is nothing short of scandalous!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Terith." Ioreth's voice sounded weary, but also very knowing. Ann paused by the doorway, wondering what this was all about.

"It is not right for Annette to be wandering about in those men's clothes."

Outside the door, Ann blushed and fingered her worn tunic. She couldn't believe that this hadn't been addressed before. Though – judging by Ioreth's tone of voice – it seemed as though this was no new ground that they were covering. Ann pressed herself against the wall and listened to the women.

"By her own story, she has wandered in the wild for years." Ioreth said. "I would suspect that no one has taught her how to be proper. It may not be perfectly decent; but you must remember that our first duty is to care for the defenders of our city. Annette has been a hard worker and has proved herself to, thus far, hold no ill will towards us. Now that she will be staying within the city itself I will take it upon myself to speak to her; but you, Terith, can put your fears of her offering her services by her raiment at ease. I can tell you that nothing Ann wears or does seems to indicate that she works that way and even if she did, I am sure that there are none in this place that would take advantage of her. If you are still not happy, then you have my permission to follow her around for a couple of days, providing that it does not interfere with your work. Just keep an eye on her and things like that."

"It will not be necessary for me to do that." Terith said stiffly. "All I wanted was for you to go and talk to her about her manner of dress."

Aelin's soft voice spoke up. "Perhaps she doesn't have anything else. In all the time I've known her, I've only seen two different outfits on her. Perhaps her people were all clad in similar fashion and so she knows no different. Her tunic _is_ rather longer than that of Joshua."

Terith huffed, getting back in stride and slamming what sounded like a mortar down with gusto. "Well, I suppose you all think I am being ridiculous, but we'll see who has the final word when we have to play midwife."

"Terith, that's enough!" Ioreth snapped, sounding sharper than Ann had ever heard her be before. "I will not have you slandering Ann's name. If you think it is so important, loan her some of your clothes."

Ann stepped back from the doorway and drew a deep breath. She looked down at her patched trousers and shabby tunic. Of course! How could she have been so stupid? Back in her world, she had almost always just worn jeans and a T-shirt and that was totally acceptable. While in Lothlorien, because of the training, she usually wore a tunic and trousers rather than the flowing elven robes that seemed to be the customary formal dress and while wandering in the wild, skirts and petticoats were simply out of the question. But now – now if she wanted to fit into the culture of the city it was clear that she would have to make a change. It would not be fair to those around her if she continued to flaunt the 'dress code' in the same manner (even if before it had been unintentional). Yes – it was time to augment her wardrobe, even if she did it with little pleasure.

* * *

"Here, Annette." Terith said pompously, entering Ioreth's house with an armful of cloth and presenting it to Ann who was sweeping. "Clean kirtles, aprons, bodices, and gowns."

Ann wrinkled her nose in dismay. Even the elven-dresses hadn't been as cumbersome as these looked. Despite the flowing sleeves, the elves had managed to make the clothes airy and comfortable and you could actually move unimpeded while wearing them. These just looked like straightjackets disguised as dresses. She desperately hoped that there would be no corset. Immersing oneself in a society's culture was all very well and good, but it is rather hard to do while asphyxiating!

"Ann, if you want to continue working in the Houses of Healing, you must wear these." Terith sighed, seeing the younger girl's look of apprehension and for once deciding to be kindly (even if it did come off condescendingly). "You may borrow these until you have time to procure some of your own."

"Fine." Ann groaned and gathered up the miles of garments. "I'll just go put these in my room."

"And don't forget to put one on before work today!" Terith yelled after her. "Before you leave the house, in fact." With that, the older apprentice swept out of the front door.

"Meddling, prissy drama-queen." Ann muttered as she struggled with stockings, petticoats, and bodice lacings. "I look like a Barbie doll."


End file.
